


Every Time I Look At You (It's Like The First Time)

by Oldguybones



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: College AU, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and SMUT, story telling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 02:30:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17296037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oldguybones/pseuds/Oldguybones
Summary: Richie and Stan are the only two students left in their dorms over holiday break. They spend the evening together, bonding and getting to know each other over cocoa and snow angels.





	Every Time I Look At You (It's Like The First Time)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leighwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighwrites/gifts).



_ Stan enjoys solitude. Anyone who’s known him longer than a day is well aware of this fact. He likes quiet evenings spent by himself, either working on school work or reading for leisure. Currently he’s doing the latter, a pile of pillows propped up at the head of his bed as he reclines against them with a thick book situated in his lap.  _

_ Despite his door being closed, he can hear the thrum of bass sounding from down the hallway. He exhales a heavy sigh and attempts to pick up where he lost his focus, but the second he finds the right sentence, he loses it again at the sound of a painfully offkey voice singing along with the music. An equal mix of curiosity and annoyance finally drives him out of bed and out towards the source. Part of him is ready to tell off whoever is making so much noise; perhaps that's why his friends tend to deem him an old soul. But considering the lack of habitants in the dorms during holiday break, there should be no reason for this amount of noise. It makes no sense to him. _

_ Leaning against the doorway of the common room, he smiles fondly at the sight he finds there, which perfectly explains the noise. The tall, lanky guy from his business class stands at the front of the couch, microphone from the karaoke machine firmly gripped in his hand. He’s clad in nothing but a white t-shirt and a pair of red plaid boxers; his hair looks like an absolute tangled mess and, even from across the room, he can tell his thick rimmed glasses haven’t been cleaned in weeks. But the guy, despite the fact that he never seems to shut up, has an indescribable charm about him, that even Stan picked up on on their first day of class. Even as he stands up there, barely dressed and singing horrendously, Stan can’t help but feel a tiny ounce of infatuation. Perhaps, others would call it a crush. But Stan isn’t quite ready to label it as such yet.  _

_ “Hey Risky Business,” he calls out, the hint of a smile gracing his lips as he kicks off of the doorframe to walk across the room and over to him, “Mind keeping it down a little?” _

_ “Oh shit!” the guy, named Richie, exclaims as his gaze finally falls upon the room’s new occupant. He scrambles forward to turn off the music, his cheeks flushed a deep pink at the current state he’s been found in. “I didn’t think anyone else was still here.”  _

_ “Well I am,” Stan smirks as he sits down on the couch, crossing one leg over the other.  _

_ Richie scratches the back of his head, emitting a nervous chuckle, “It’s been like three days and I haven’t seen anyone so I just kinda figured…” _

_ Stan rolls his eyes, a little offended by the callout and even more so, when he realizes that he’s hardly left his room in the aforementioned three days. But considering all his friends are home for the holidays and he’s already celebrated his, he doesn’t feel too bad about his reclusivity. “Fair enough,” he grumbles dismissively as his eyes shine with expectation, “So are you going to finish or what?” _

_ Richie's fleeting gaze snaps back to him, his mouth hanging open in an obviously dumbfounded manner. “Wha..?” _

_ Stan remains in his seat on the couch, continuing to watch Richie, “You heard me,” he says challengingly.  _

_ For a moment, Richie seems to consider it, appearing to be a mix of impressed and intimidated. But nonetheless, at the beginning next sentence, he picks up right where he left off. Stan admires him as he finishes, so carefree and unafraid of being so completely himself. It compliments him well.  _

_ “Thank you, thank you,” Richie calls, as if to some big imaginary crowd, taking multiple bows, “I'll be here all night!” _

_ Stan jumps up from the couch, rapidly clapping his hands together, “Encore, encore!” _

_ Richie plays right along with it, throwing Stan a wink that, he refuses to admit, makes his heart flutter a little, “Anything for my fans.” _

_ Stan laughs softly, a fond edge to his voice as he says, “Maybe after you put on some pants.” _

_ Richie draws a hand to his chest, feigning offense as he stares Stan down through squinty eyes, “You know...you're not a very good groupie if you keep trying to talk me into clothes.” _

_ “Who said anything about me being a groupie?” _

_ “Oh Stanny boy, no one said anything at all,” Richie clarifies, taping his index and middle finger to his temple, “It’s all up here.” _

_ The heat rises to Stan's cheek, dusting them a deep pink as he attempts to stammer out a response, but only manages to roll his eyes once again.  _

_ Richie sets the mic down on the machine and moves over to the doorway, leaning against it dramatically, “Wait for me. I shall return.” _

_ Stan chuckles at the theatrics from his goofily attractive classmate as he putters towards the karaoke machine, idly flipping through the pages of the song listing book. His index finger trails along the lines of song titles, smiling each time it reaches a song he enjoys. By the time Richie returns, Stan's still doing this.  _

_ “Your turn,” Richie announces with a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his lips.  _

_ Stan scoffs, shaking his head at the mere idea of embarrassing himself like he had just witnessed Richie do moments prior. “No way. The only way I'm doing that is drunk.” _

_ Richie lets a bark of laughter, one Stan can tell is 100% genuine. “Careful,” he warns playfully, “That can easily be arranged.” _

 

“Papa, what does drunk mean?”

Despite how painfully adorable his daughter sounds asking, Stan shoots a glare in his husband direction regardless. 

“Hey!” Richie explains, chuckling as he holds his hands up in defense, “You're the one who said it!”

Stan twists one of her strawberry blonde curls around his finger as he contemplates a safe, yet sufficient answer. “Drunk just means really happy, sweetie.”  
  


_ “Follow me,” Richie proclaims, with a baffling mix of casualty and confidence.  _

_ Stan doesn't even bother to deny the way his heart flutters, seized by the excitement of Richie's warm and surprisingly soft hand grasping his own. He relaxes the tension from his shoulders and allows himself to be guided towards the cafeteria. Within it, stands a small coffee stand, resembling those found in bookstores. It has its own little area and feels separate from the cafeteria. _

_ Stan watches, fondly still, as Richie, not so gracefully, hops over the counter, despite the short distance to walk around it. A chuckle bubbles up from his throat as Richie pops back up, making a show of dusting off his front.  _

_ “Stuck the landing,” he says, flashing Stan a big, cheesy grin.  _

_ “Are you always like this?” Stan asks aloud, only to finish silently in his mind, stupidly charming? _

_ Richie nods solemnly, “You mean this awesome? Yes, I am. It's a condition really. I've learned to live with it, but sadly those around me cannot handle it.” _

_ “You're a dork,” Stan quips and rolls his eyes, playfully, for seems like the third time already since their short evening together had begun, and certainly it won't be the last, Stan is sure of that much.  _

_ Richie clicks his tongue and winks, pointing a set of finger guns in Stan's direction. “Guilty as charged. Now what can I get you, handsome?” _

_ Stan attempts to keep his composure as his cheeks turn bright pink. He leans against the counter and after a moment, replies, “Surprise me.” _

_ “Oh, dealer's choice?” Richie questions as he pulls two mugs from below the counter and sets them on top of it. “I like your style.” _

_ The two remain silent for a couple minutes as Stan watches Richie prepare what looks to be hot cocoa. He tops them off with a splash of Bailey's, whipped cream and sprinkles.  _

_ “Ta-da!” Richie exclaims as he carefully passes one of the mugs over to him. He waits eagerly for him to take a drink.  _

_ Stan brings the mug to his lips and takes a cautious sip of the drink. Somehow it's the perfect temperature, not too hot but nowhere near cold. And for a moment, he feels like he's stumbled across some drink making wizard because he's never tasted a more delicious cup of hot cocoa in his life. He takes another eager sip and feels a smidge of something cold hit his nose.  _

_ Before he can react, Richie leans over the counter and brushes his thumb across his nose. His eyes are trained on Richie's lips as he sucks the whip cream from his finger. “Pretty good huh?” _

_ Stan's only response is a dumb nod.  _

_ The grin on Richie's face is downright contagious; his eyes shine a piercing shade of blue that, even hidden behind his thick glasses, captivates Stan. He feels slightly breathless as they continue to hold each other's gaze. He's charming, and attractive, yet there's something so approachable about him. Even for someone who enjoys his share of peace and quiet, still Stan regrets never talking to him before this occasion.  _

_ Richie moves both of their drinks to the side and hop back up onto the counter, though this time he remains seated there, his legs crossed in front of him. He leans forward slightly, patting the open space in front of him.  _

_ Stan takes the hint and joins him, mirroring his position exactly so that the two of them face each other. Richie hands him his drink back and they fall, easily into conversation as they continue to enjoy their beverages. _

_ “So tell me a little bit about yourself.” _

_ “What is this? A job interview?” Richie laughs, a beautiful sound which bubbles up from deep in his chest. It fades after a few moments and he returns his gaze to Stan’s awaiting smile, “Whatcha wanna know?” _

_ “Well, for starters, why you aren’t home for the holidays,” Stan answers, both of his hands cupped around the warm mug otherwise resting in his lap. _

_ Richie lets out a short chuckle, nodding his head in understanding, “Yeah….last year my dad got really sick,” he spoke softly, his usual carefree tone replaced with a distinct vulnerability. “Cancer. They gave him six months to live, at best,” Richie shrugs his shoulders as he pauses to take a sip of his cocoa, “But a year later, there’s no sign of the cancer and he’s as healthy as ever.” _

_ Stan nods, listening intently to the story, “That’s fantastic.” _

_ Richie’s lips crack up in a soft smile, “We never thought he’d make it past last Christmas. So my mom insisted they go away on some big, romantic vacation for the holidays. After all they went through, they deserve it.” _

 

Though he always maintains a strong facade for their daughter, Stan can see the strain on Richie’s face as he talks about his father. Days after they celebrated her first birthday, Richie had received the phone call from his mother, the one he’d been dreading for many years, informing him of his father’s passing. And now, almost four years later, they were about to celebrate her birthday once again.

Their daughter is cuddled up between the two of them as they all squeeze together on her twin sized bed. Their fingers are intertwined, resting on the fluffy blanket tucked around her. Stan moves to gently stroke his thumb over the back of Richie’s hand and give it a firm squeeze. 

Richie smiles knowingly at the affectionate gesture and leans over to peck a chaste kiss to his husband’s lips. 

“Ewww!” the young girl shrieks with giggle, “The story, papa, the story!”

“Right, right, right,” Stan chuckles as he continues.

 

_ “Good for them,” he murmurs softly, a warm feeling spreading throughout his chest. Whether it’s due to the warm beverage, or the heartwarming story of a tried and true love, Stan’s not sure. Perhaps both, he thinks. To hear about parents still so deeply and obviously in love struck a chord with him.  _

_ Richie seems to pick up on the forlorn look on his face, if the cautious tone in his voice is any indicator, “Should I refrain from asking what’s keeping you here over break?” _

_ Stan shrugs dismissively, “My parents are divorced. So staying here saves me from having to equally divide my time between the two of them. I swear it’s like spend five extra minutes at my mom’s and I hear about it for hours at my dad’s.” _

_ “Ouch, that’s rough,” Richie cringes as he reaches back under the counter and grabs the bottle of Bailey’s. He thumbs the cap off and pours another splash in each of their cups, “Cheers to us, then.” _

_ “Cheers,” Stan returns, with a fond smile as he clinks the rim of his glass to Richie’s. “No holiday is complete without an embarrassing overshare,” he comments as he brings his cup down from his lips.  _

_ Richie lets out a unrestrained bark of laughter; Stan's beginning to realizes that's something Richie does a lot and something he personally needs to do more of.  _

_ “I think we could do worse.” _

_ Stan reacts with a roaring laugh which echoes against the walls of the cafeteria. While it doesn't sound like the most natural, the shine in Stan's eyes is 100% genuine. Richie gives him a silent, puzzled stare. Stan shrugs casually, “I guess you could say it's a New Year's resolution. To laugh more.” _

_ Richie's hand falls to rest over Stan's, and the light touch sends a spark of electricity up his spine. “It suits you.” _

_ Stan can feel the heat rise to his cheeks once again; he ducks his head down to prevent Richie from discovering this. Though when he peeks up, the goofy smile on Richie's face tells him it was pointless all along. Stan’s not sure how long its been, just the two of them sitting on the counter of the coffee stand where, Richie eventually divulges, he works at; all he knows is they’ve gone through two cups each of cocoa and the amount of Bailey’s in them has made his head swim pleasantly.  _

_ “C'mon, I have an idea,” Richie declares, hopping off the counter and holding his hand out for Stan to do the same.  _

_ Despite the short distance to the ground, he takes Richie's hand, if not just to feel the surge of electricity rush through him again. What he doesn't expect is the way Richie then laces through fingers together and tightly grips his hand as he leads them back through the common room. “Where are we going?” There's a beautiful laugh behind his words and Richie thinks it's the most perfect sound he's ever heard. _

_ “You'll see!” He exclaims, leading the down the hallway and towards the entrance. He pulls the door open and props it open with a nearby chair to prevent it from closing all the way.  _

_ Stan watches, his eyes wide and mouth dropped open at the sight of Richie sneaking through the door and into the snow outside. “Are you crazy?” He demands. Sure, they've both got shoes on; Stan has on a thick sweater and cords, which is more than he can say for Richie who's sporting a pair of cotton sweats and a t-shirt.  _  
  


“Daddy, weren't you cold?” Their daughter looks up at Richie with her soft brown eyes that convey so much innocent wonder. She stifles a yawn and the two of them can tell she's fighting sleep to finish the story. 

“Maybe a little,” he answers with a fond smile as his eyes meet Stan's; when they first fell in love they were a bright hazel, leaning more towards green. But as the years have passed, they've lightened to a soft brown, with hints of the green, from their youth. “But it was all worth it to see the smile on Papa's face.”

Stan smiles softly, heart still warmed by the amount of affection Richie showers him with and how Richie can make him feel so loved after years and years. Sure, their love has grown since their college days, but it's always remained the same.   
  


_ “I might be,” Richie agrees with a nod, holding out his hand to Stan. “But you’ll never know if you don’t come find out!” _

_ Stan crosses his arms over his cheek and pursed his lips together thoughtfully, “Mmm, pretty sure I can tell from here.” _

_ “You’re missing out!” Richie calls, his arms spread out wide as he spins around in the thick fall of snowflakes from the evening sky. Somehow, he looks like he belongs there, like the freezing temperatures didn’t matter at all.  _

_ “You’re a dumbass!” Stan yells out affectionately as he maneuvers around the chair to join Richie out in the snow. Even in his attire, he’s freezing; he can’t imagine how Richie’s getting by. But in that moment, he finds himself unable to care because the look on his face is endearing, to say the absolute least.  _

_ “Born and raised!” Richie replies proudly. He shuffles through the couple inches of snow on the ground and over to where Stan stands, stubbornly right outside the building. Once again, Richie extends his hand out to Stan. “One snow angel. That’s all I’m asking.” _

_ Stan glances down the outstretched hand and then back up towards Richie’s face. When he does, he’s met with a pair of hopeful blue eyes. “Yeah, that’s still a lot to ask for.” _

_ “I’ll show you how it’s done!” And before Stan can even think about arguing, Richie’s launching himself towards the middle of the lot where all the snow is beautifully undisturbed. Stan watches, incredulously, as Richie crouches down, falls back onto his butt and then flat onto his back. He moves his arms and legs in the designated way to create the snow angel, the way most everyone learned when they were young. “My snow angel is getting lonely!” _

_ With a reluctant sigh, Stan trudges out to where Richie’s still laying on the ground. He might be actually insane, but he’s cute, Stan thinks as he lays down beside Richie. Tucking his fingers inside the sleeves of his sweater in an attempt to keep them warm, Stan moves his limbs in a similar fashion to create a matching snow angel. Due to their proximity, their hands brush together, just slightly. _

_ It’s unclear who makes the first move, because they both seem to move in at the same time, but suddenly they’re close enough so Richie can sneak his fingers up the sleeve of Stan’s sweater and lace their fingers together.  _

_ “This has been a lot of fun,” Stan murmurs, his lips curling up in a wide smile. He stands up and offers his hand out to Richie; he eagerly accepts it and hops to his feet. “We should do it again sometime.” _

_ Richie smiles, “Absolutely.” _  
  


“And the rest was history.”

The sound of their daughter’s heavy breathing from the two of them out of the memory, sharing a fond smile. They each press a gentle kiss to her forehead; Stan makes sure she’s tucked in while Richie ensures her nightlight is on. In the most comfortingly familiar fashion, Richie holds his hand out for Stan and the two of them quietly sneak out of her room, hand in hand. 

They retire to their own bedroom at the end of the hall. They pull back the multitude of blankets covering their bed and both strip down to their underwear and t-shirts. It’s a little early, but most times they climb into bed, shortly after putting their daughter to sleep, and partake in other activities together. Sometimes Stan reads a book while Richie works on his scripts. Other times, they’ll curl up together and watch a movie, in which one or both of them usually fall asleep during. 

“You remember the rest of that night?” Stan asks with a smirk as the two of them slide into bed. 

“Of course I do,” Richie chuckles his reply, resting on his side under the covers. He lets out a hum of content as he feels his husband chest press against his back. “The snowball fight that lead to our kiss, which then lead to more…”

Stan leans forward to press his lips to Richie’s ear, causing his crotch to further press against his ass. “Tell me about it,” he growls, his hand resting on Richie’s hip, dangerously close to the waistband of his boxers.

 

_ “Okay, okay! I surrender!” Richie yells out, throwing his hand into the air as he slowly walks towards the tree Stan is hiding behind. His other arm is pulled behind his back and in his hand is a perfectly packed snowball. He sneaks up to the tree, and slowly creeps around, finding that Stan is doing the same. As quietly as he can, he stops, turning around to the face the opposite direction. Shortly after, Stan launches around the curve of the trunk, his own snowball held high in the air. The force of his movement as he knocks into Richie sends both of them to the ground. Richie lands with a grunt, Stan’s entire weight now resting on top of him. _

_ “Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” Stan says quickly, scrambling to gain enough footing to stand up.  _

_ Richie finds it charming, the absolutely mortified look on Stan’s face. He reaches up to cup the back of his neck and uses a gentle force to bring his face closer. For a short moment, he pauses, to give the other just enough time to pull back if he wanted to. But luckily for Richie, he didn’t. Stan simply licks his lips and allows Richie to close the gap between them, pressing their quivering lips together in a kiss that was chaste at first. It didn’t take long for the one small kiss to turn into two then three and before either of them knew it, they were heatedly making out.  _

_ Stan pulls back slightly, just enough so they’re foreheads rest together as they catch their breaths. “Wow,” Richie whispers, “You know, if I wasn’t literally freezing my balls off, I’d be so hard right now.” _

_ Stan busts out laughing, rising to his feet and helping Richie back up. “Well in that case, lets get you back inside,” he comments, a smirk teasing the corner of his lips. He keeps their fingers locked together as they find their way back into the building. “I have an idea,” Stan says, mimicking the phrase Richie’s said multiple times over the course of the evening.  _

_ They take a quick detour to Stan’s pristinely kept dorm room and grab a couple towels before they find themselves in the community showers. “A nice hot shower will warm you up,” Stan finally comments, as he turns on a couple right next to each other. “We can always keep our under--” Before Stan can even finish his sentence, he turns to find Richie completely, unashamedly naked.  _

_ “Or-or not…” Stan stammers, his cheeks turning a deep red at the sight. He tries to push it to the back of his mind and certainly tries not to dwell on it. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he slowly undresses himself, fingers toying with the waistband of his briefs. _

_ Richie’s gentle voice sounds behind him, “You can keep them on, you know.” _

_ “I know,” Stan whispers as he suddenly shoves them down and steps out of them. A seizing of the day of sorts.  _

_ “Big day for you,” Richie murmurs softly as he stands under the spray of the hot water, tilting his head back and combing his fingers through his dark curls.  _

_ Stan’s eyes were trained to path of the water glistening down Richie’s chest. Out of respect, he tries to keep his gaze above the belt, but it’s a hard.  _ **_Very hard,_ ** _ he realizes after he steals a glance at it. He feels his twitch in interest, which he deems to be a completely natural reaction. He’s not sure if the color in his cheeks is mainly due to the heat rising in the showers, or the nature of their current situation.  _

_ Richie catches his eye, smirking as he wipes the excess of water from his face. “Join me?” _

_ Stan nods, taking a few slow steps over to stand under the hot water beside Richie. He remains silent as he stands there, letting the hot water vanquish the chill from outside. It's nice, not only the rise in his temperature but the way it feels so easy to stand beside Richie, completely exposed. He's surprised to say he doesn't feel that at all, he feels safe. _

_ “Hey,” Richie whispers softly, turning his head to the side, “Thanks for hanging out with me today.”  _

_ Stan smiles and nods his head in agreement, “Yeah, it was a lot of fun.” _

_ “Can I kiss you again?” he asks gently, moving to stand in front of Stan. He reaches up to cup both of his cheeks, and brings his lips right to Stan’s before stilling. Despite their proximity, their eyes met briefly; they only break when Stan nods his consent.  _

_ And after that, Richie doesn’t hesitate for a second longer, smashing their lips together in an eager kiss. Stan practically whimpers against his lips as his hand fly up to grasp aimlessly at Richie’s forearms. Their lips move together in perfect sync, easily parting to allow the gentle slide of their tongues against one another.  _

_ They both get lost in the kiss, if it can even be considered just a kiss at this point. Time holds no meaning; had it been a minute, an hour, or longer? Neither of them could tell, but they didn’t care, not one bit. All that matters is the movement of their lips and the press of their bodies as they grow more eager under the warm spray of the water. _

_ Richie presses his body against Stan’s, gently guiding his back to the wall of the shower. His hands have moved down to rest on Stan’s hips as his lips trail down to press hot, open mouth kisses against his neck. Stan groans, feeling Richie’s hard length pressing against his own.  _

_ Richie breaks away slightly, glancing down between them. He wraps his large hand around the both of them, slowly stroking over their lengths. His head tilts up to capture Stan’s lips in a soft kiss, “This okay?” he murmurs against Stan’s lips.  _

_ Stan swallows the lump in his throat, only able to manage a nod as he holds back a moan. His head falls back to rest against the wall as the coil in his stomach tightens. Amongst all the adventurous moments he'd partaken in throughout the evening, allowing himself to be so open and vulnerable with someone he only truly met hours prior definitely takes the cake. Already, his heart flutters in a way that spoke volume for how he felt towards the goofy, fun loving guy who managed to break him out of his shell, in one night.  _

_ Richie presses a series of kisses all over Stan’s throat and collarbones, reveling in the beautiful sounds it elicits from him.  _

_ “You’re amazing,” Richie groans as he continues to pump his hand over them, creating a heavy amount of friction from their cocks rubbing together.  _

_ “Feels so good,” Stan whimpers, his fingers digging in where they’re pressed against Richie’s shoulders. He's trying desperately to hold on, afraid that otherwise he might crumpled to the ground into a puddle of blissed out pleasure. _

_ “C’mon,” Richie encourages him gently, kissing along his jawline as he speeds his stroke and tightens his grip. “I’m a gentlemen, so you can take first honor.” _

_ Stan lets out a laugh, though the sound is shortened by a powerful moan which rips through him as Richie reaches down to cradle his balls. “Please Richie,” he begs, teetering right on the edge of his release. “I'm so close.” _

_ “Oh fuck, say my name again,” Richie demands eagerly, trying to hold himself back so he can fully witness Stan coming undone. _

_ “Richie,” he repeated desperately, clutching tighter at Richie’s skin and squeezing his eyes shut as the coil finally snaps and he comes over Richie’s hand and cock.  _

_ Richie rests his forehead against Stan’s as he grunts softly, his own release practically hitting him like a freight train. “Holy shit,” he chuckles as they both come down, huffing out thick breaths which mingle together with the hot steam of the shower.  _

_ The rest of their time in the shower is filled with unrushed kisses and the two of them washing each other until finally the water begins to turn cold.  _

 

By the time the story comes to an end, Richie's convinced the two of them couldn't be closer. He can feel the entire expanse of his husband's chest against his back and a hard bulge grinding against his ass. The action draws a gasp from his lips, followed by a needy moan as he eagerly shifts his hips back into the rhythm. 

Stan kisses the flushed skin of his neck and shoulders, wherever his lips can reach. His fingers slip under the hem of his t-shirt and teasingly trail up his stomach and over his chest. A shivers runs down his spine and sometimes he wonders how Stan can still have such an effect on him. But he never wonders too long, chalking it up to how incredibly sexy his husband is.

“It always make me so hot when you tell that part of the story,” he growls, his teeth gently nibbling along Richie's earlobe, an action that causes him to buck his hips forward. Stan's fingers find their way back lower, finally coming to settle on the waistband of his boxers.

“Are you as horny as I am?” he murmurs in Richie's ear again and the sultry tone in his voice forces a shudder to ripple through his body. 

“C'mon Stan,” Richie whimpers, both the sound and the use of his actual name in place of a petname make Stan even harder than before, if that's even possible. “You already know I am.”

“Should I fuck you?” Stan asks with a groan, as if the answer isn't painfully obvious. His hand settles on Richie's hip and he uses the grip to guide his ass back against his crotch against. “Cause I  _ really _ want to fuck you.”

“What kind of question is that? Of course you should!” Richie quips. A whimper slips from his lips when he feels his partner roll away from him and for a second, he turns absolutely desperate because he really doesn't have to play this game right now; he just wants to be fucked. He's about to turn over to beg Stan (and he's not too proud to cry at this point) when he feels the weight of his husband roll back in his direction and they resume their previous position. 

He sighs heavily in relief as he feels Stan's hand dip below his waistband and soon enough, two slick fingers are circling around his entrance. Richie omits a steady string of moans and whimpers as Stan works him open. It's a slow process, just as it usually is. Not only does Stan want to ensure his comfort by making sure he's adequately prepped, but he also gets a certain amount of pleasure from endlessly teasing him. 

He cranes his neck back, enough so that he can see Stan's face as he whispers out a quiet, “Please.”

Stan smirks, withdrawing his fingers and using that hand to yank Richie's boxers down slightly. They remain on and bunched around Richie's thighs. For a split second, he's concerned with getting them all the way off, but the feeling disappears the second he feels the thick head of Stan's cock brushing over his hole.

His lips part at the sensation, a gasp on the tip of his tongue but it's swallowed by Stan's lips capturing his in a slow, but messy kiss. Right as his attention gets wrapped up in it, Stan grips the base of his dick and gingerly begins to slide into him. Richie moans and pants against his lips, refusing to move his face an inch away from Stan's. 

His bright hazel eyes are now darkened with lust and stare directly into Richie's, foreheads touching as Stan eases into him. Richie slips his eyes shut as he takes deep breaths to help his body adjust to the stretch of Stan filling him up. Despite the countless times they've been in this exact position, Richie never entirely got use to it. Each and every time, there was a wonderful stretch, which set Richie's skin ablaze. 

“Oh fuck,” he gasps as Stan bottoms out, “I love you.”

Stan press hot, open mouth kisses against the back of Richie's neck as he rests his head back on the arm Stan has tucked beneath it. “I love you too, Richie. You feel so damn good.” Slowly, Stan pulls his hips back and begins to roll them forward, easing into a steady rhythm that soon has the room filled with pleasured sounds from the both of them. 

Stan hooks his arm under Richie's leg, lifting it and holding it in place as he continues to fuck into him, now even deeper than before.

“More, please,” he groans, reaching his hand back and letting it land on Stan's ass, fingers digging into his cheek as he desperately urges him to go faster, harder.

Stan knows exactly what he wants, as he always does, and shifts his hips to gain enough traction to speed up his thrust. The slight change of angle with the quickened pace has Stan pounding relentlessly against his prostate. 

“Right there!” Richie cries out suddenly as a sob bubbles up in his chest. Stan moves one hand to cover Richie's mouth to prevent the loud volume he knows is coming as his other hand wraps around Richie's cock and begins to stroke him in time with his hips.

Stan's beyond thankful for the hand over Richie's mouth as he reaches his release, because he's crying out against it, obviously sounding like a muffled sob of his husband's name over and over again. 

It doesn't take much more than that to send Stan over the edge, pumping into him a few more times before his hips still and he comes deep inside his husband. He buries his face in the crook of Richie's neck as they both come down from their highs. Richie's hips shift and he lets out a content hum of pleasure at the feeling of Stan still nestled inside him. 

Gently, Stan sets his leg back down on top of his other as he pulls out. Rolling out of bed, he moves around to the other side, kneeling on it in front of Richie. He brushes a few loose strands of hair back, smiling fondly down at him. 

“C'mon, my love,” he murmurs soothingly, his thumb brushing over Richie's bottom lip. Richie smiles and purses his lips to give it a kiss. “Let's go take a hot shower.”

Richie takes Stan's outstretched hand and slides out of bed. He grabs both of Stan's cheeks, bringing their lips together. “I can't believe how lucky I am, that I met you that day.”

Stan nods in agreement and takes Richie's hand in his own as they scurry off to the bathroom. As they start up the shower, and step under the spray of the hot water, Stan looks deep into his eyes. 

“Good thing you were cute because you couldn't sing for shit.”

Richie places a hand on his chest as his jaw drops in feigned shock, “Staniel, how  _ dare _ you!”

Stan playfully rolls his eyes as he guides Richie under the spray of water to wet his hair. The two of them fall into a comfortable silence as they wash each other in a beautifully intimate way, cultivated over years of happy marriage. 

It would be impossible for either of them to deny how incredibly happy and lucky they both were to have found a love like theirs, where every touch and every kiss is just like the first. 

  
  



End file.
